Chipped
by Uber Cool
Summary: Bruce feels guilty. After all, they were his hands wrapped around Flash's neck. Chapter 1: Wally!Whump; Chapter 2: Batflash
1. doing

**Jumping right into the action;)**

* * *

Flash hides the bomb at the base of the radio tower. If he can end the transmission, then the chips in his teammates' heads will be useless. Or so he hopes. He's on his own for this mission, seeing as the rest of the league is brainwashed.

Once activated the bomb needs 10 minutes before it explodes. Just as Flash is about to flip the switch, he hears a beeping in his ear. His comm link. Frowning, he puts a hand to his ear to answer, "Flash. Who's on the line?"

"Hello Wally," The voice says.

"Supes. Good to hear your voice. We can talk after I save your ass from that chip planted in your skull."

Superman sighs, "You don't understand Wally. I don't need saving. None of us do. This chip- this nanotechnology- it takes pain away. I haven't felt this content in years. We only want the same for you. Please, join us. It is the key to happiness. Accept the chip and be at peace at last."

Flash snorts. "You're out of your damn mind. You sound like a robot."

There's a pause on Superman's end. Finally he continues, "We cannot let you destroy that transmission. Shayera is currently holding a gun to our friend Bruce's head. Be in the Batcave in the next 20 seconds or she will fire it."

The breath catches in Flash's throat. "You're going to kill Bats? Are you insane?"

"18 seconds."

"Superman!" Flash yells. "I know you don't want to do this."

"17 seconds." He knows that Superman is not bluffing. The chip made his teammates detached and emotionless- and dismissive of the unspoken moral code they followed. Earlier that day, Wonder Woman and Shayera had slaughtered a group of people rioting against the League and its sudden endorsement of the chip.

Flash bites his lip nervously, his gaze flickering from the bomb to the horizon where his brainwashed friends were waiting. If he left, he'd be leaving the bomb vulnerable and unprotected. If he stayed...

"15 seconds." Flash hears the faint _click_ of a gun in the background.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming now." He flips the switch on the bomb, praying to God that it detonates in time, and takes off towards the Batcave. He reached the front door of the Manor in 5 seconds.

The door to the mansion swings open and Alfred greets the speedster, smiling with that familiar blank look in his eyes.

"Please come in. They are expecting you."

Flash steps into the house, eyeing the butler suspiciously. "Even you, Jeeves?" He mutters.

Alfred leads him to the grandfather clock leading into the cave. The clock slides to the left and Flash descends the stairs where the League (minus J'onn and Wonder Woman) are waiting. The team had taken off their costumes, wearing their regular civvies.

True to Superman's word, Shayera is holding a pistol to Bruce's temple. Both of them are devoid of emotion as if the Thanagarian isn't one moment away from ending Bruce's life. Her finger is on the trigger, and Flash suddenly realizes she's still counting the seconds.

"Wait!" Flash calls, lunging forward.

Before he can reach Shayera, green chains wrap around his ankles, sending him crashing into the ground.

He twists himself around and John is towering over him, ring pointed.

"...Hey GL," Flash says.

John smiles. "You came. Good decision." He nods at Shayera, who lowers the gun.

The Green Lantern crouches next to Flash. "But you haven't taken the key yet, so we're not done."

Flash scowls. "I'd rather stuff my face in Grodd's smelly pits than take your dumb chip."

"We'll see," Another voice says. Clark steps toward Flash and without any warning, digs his heel into Flash's palm. Flash gasps in pain and reaches with his free hand to pry Clark's foot off, but John catches it and slams it back into the ground.

Clark's eyes turn red and Flash pales. Superman wouldn't-

Suddenly, searing pain rips through the speedster's thigh. He cries out in pain as Superman's heat vision cooks his leg. When he finally stops, Flash feels sweat dampening his hair.

"Wally, the key can take your pain away." Superman holds out a small piece of tech to the speedster. "Just swallow it and your pain will disappear."

Flash shakes his head weakly.

Shayera and Bruce move to stand alongside Clark, uncaring of the torture going on in front of them.

Bruce suggests, "Start breaking fingers."

Green Lantern grips Flash's middle finger and swiftly bends it backwards, breaking the bone. Flash groans in pain as John takes hold of his ring finger, about to do the same.

"You have nine more fingers Wally. Imagine this pain times _nine._ Just take the key," John says.

Flash squeezes his eyes shut and croaks, "Never."

John breaks the ring finger too, then the pinkie. But Flash stays resilient even as tears start to slip down his cheeks. Because he knows something his teammates don't- that in less than 10 minutes, the bomb will go off and his friends will go back to being their normal selves. He just has to stay strong until then.

"Obviously, physical pain isn't working," Clark huffs, stepping off of Wally's hand while John drops the other one.

"We'll take the same approach as we did to lure him here," Shayera says as she pulls the mace from out of her belt.

"I understand," Bruce answers as he kneels to the ground in front of her.

Clark holds the chip out again. "There are only two ways that this can end. Either Bruce dies right here in front of you, or you swallow the key and save him and yourself."

"No," Flash whispers. "Please, don't do this," He pleads.

"It has to be done," Shayera says as she tightens her hold on the mace and begins winding up.

Flash pushes himself up a bit. "Shayera," He begs, tears springing to his eyes. "Please, Shay."

It goes in slow motion. Shayera pulling her mace back then bringing it forward, like a baseball swing. Bruce's eyes fluttering shut as he accepts his fate.

Flash feels a rush of adrenaline. He will _not_ let Bats die. Not today, not by the hand of a teammate. Not when they're so close to being saved. He grits his teeth and vibrates- violently- out of the chains on his ankles. He lunges towards Bruce, shoving Lantern out of the way as he goes.

The speedster is able to pull the man out of the path of the incoming mace before time speeds up again.

Shayera glares at Flash. "Kill him," She snarls.

Flash stumbles backwards as the four Leaguers approach him. _Five minutes have passed,_ He thinks and Clark's eyes turn red again.

 _I just need to hold out for five more._

Flash does his best to dodge their attacks and fight back without seriously hurting his friends. After all, he doesn't want them to wake up with real injuries. He hurls Shayera into Clark, he manages to steal the ring off GL's finger, and he ducks whatever punches Bruce throws at him.

But he realizes quickly that he can't go on much longer in his condition. His leg is throbbing, his head pounding, and his broken fingers were numb. He glances up at the entrance to the manor.

 _I need more "Hide and Seek" and less "Cats and Mouse."_

He races up the stairs and zig zags through the many hallways and rooms in the manor. He skids to a stop inside a bedroom, leans against the wall, and waits. The longer they spend looking for Wally, the less time they spend looking for the bomb. Which should be going off in...

 _Three_ _minutes. Just 120 seconds,_ Flash thinks to himself.

"Wally West, did you forget that I have X-Ray vision?" Clark calls from down the hall. Flash curses.

With a groan of pain, he pulls himself up and takes off to find a different part of the mansion to hide in. He stops at a fancy door, glances in both directions to make sure no one else is in the hallway, and goes inside.

Bruce's room, he discovers. The walls and bed sheets are the Bat's favorite color: morning blue. On the dresser is an untouched (now cold) bowl of french onion soup. A traditional katana hangs on the wall. Although the room lacks anything truly personal, Flash just _knows_ that this is Bruce's.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom is kicked down and Bruce steps inside. Flash quickly grabs the katana off the wall and holds it up in defense, using only his good hand.

"Don't make me use this!" He warns the billionaire, but is ignored when Bruce rushes at him. Flash steps to the side to avoid getting tackled, but Bruce predicts the move. He yanks the katana from Flash's hand, then grabs the front of Flash's costume and hurls him to the floor a few feet away.

Before Flash can move, Bruce drives the katana into his thigh with full force, exactly where Clark had burnt him. The sword goes straight through his leg and digs into the wood under him, pinning him to the floor. Wally screams in, his back arching in pain. He reaches for the katana, but Bruce kicks him in the face so hard, Wally is seeing double. Dazed, he doesn't react when Bruce straddles his hips and wraps his hands around his throat.

Then Bruce starts squeezing.

And Bruce is a strong man.

Wally feebly claws at Bruce's arms in an attempt to make him loosen his grip. He has nowhere to turn, because Bruce's knees are planted on either side of him.

Bruce's rough fingers dig into Wally's neck and Flash starts to lose consciousness. He wants to tell the man above him that he doesn't want to die like this. He wants to tell him a lot of things, actually. As he starts to lose his train of thought, Wally focuses on Bruce's eyes.

A long time ago, when he was young and foolish, used to think that Batman was devoid of any emotion at all. Incapable of feeling them, even. But as they worked together more and more often Wally learned the small tells that revealed Batman's feelings. A twitch of his lips, or a wrinkle in his nose, or, in the rare instances when he worked with Bruce Wayne: his eyes. Even if the rest of his face was blank, Bruce's eyes almost always betrayed him.

But looking at his eyes now hurt almost as much as the katana in his leg. If he thought the man was emotionless before... well, he was plain _dead_ right now. There was something downright terrifying about getting strangled to death by Bruce Wayne while he has acts as if he's simply doing a chore.

Black starts creeping into his vision and Wally legitimately thinks he is going to die. Bruce's fingers are still pressed into his throat and the speedster doesn't have the energy to keep fighting.

Suddenly, like a miracle, Bruce gasps sharply and the pressure on his neck is gone. Wally coughs and gasps for air, observing Bruce as he seems to recollect the past four days, and every emotion he felt in that time crashes into him at once.

Mortified, Bruce's gaze slowly travels down Wally's body as he registered what he'd nearly accomplished. Wally pushes himself up on his elbows, his head spinning from both a lack of oxygen and Bruce's kick from earlier. Bruce suddenly seems to realize his current position, and swings one of his legs over so that he's sitting next to Wally instead of looming over him.

Slowly, he reaches for Wally's face. Without thinking, Flash flinches away from his outstretched hand. The hurt expression on Bruce's face made Wally immediately regret it.

Bruce swallows thickly, turning his attention instead to Wally's leg.

"I'll get a medkit and have Alfred patch that up," He says, his voice lacking its usual gruffness.

He watches Bruce hurriedly leave the room.

Wally wants to call out to him, to hug him, to assure him that everything's okay, but the aching of his throat stops him.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think! I'm working on chapter two as you read this. It's going to be mainly Bruce's POV on how he's coping with this whole thing. Lotta feels to come I think. That'll be out sometime next week so keep ur eyes P-E-E-L-E-D!**

 **Also, if you didn't notice, I just finished season 3 of the 100 :)**


	2. coping

**A LOT of inspiration drawn from ChancellorGriffin on ao3's fic: _trustful hands_. Actually, this chapter is basically based off it.**

 **If you watch the 100 and have a soft spot for either Kane or Bellamy, go check that shit out right now!**

* * *

Bruce hadn't slept in three days.

Not entirely true, actually. He'd taken 30 minute naps here and there, but not a full night's rest. Whenever he tried, he'd just wake up an hour later in a cold sweat, completely horrified, not knowing where or who he was.

Because it was always the same grim nightmare.

It always started off with him and Wally, enjoying each others company. Sometimes they were at the park. Sometimes they were in the Watchtower. Sometimes they were simply sitting next to each other at a meeting.

And suddenly, the sense of peace would be brutally shattered. Something inside him would snap. Bruce would have the sudden uncontrollable urge to murder the speedster. Not out of anger, or self defense, but he just felt like he _had_ to. Like someone was ordering him to. He'd throw Flash to the ground like a doll, and exactly like what really happened, he would wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze with all his might.

Except in his dreams, he doesn't let go. He feels Wally's heart hammer beneath his fingertips until it slows and eventually stops altogether. He feels Wally struggle underneath him until his body goes completely limp and those green eyes glaze over. Then, Bruce's body jerks awake, the nightmare so terrifyingly real it takes him a few moments to remember that _no, I did not kill Wally West_.

But as he lays awake in his bed, Bruce swears he can still feel the wild thumping of Wally's heartbeat against his own hands.

He can't forget. He can't forgive. But he _can_ distract himself.

So he does. He spends every waking minute working as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. He has a lot of work to do, anyway. The League still needed to find out who or what chipped them and why. Plus, crime had steadily risen in the past week as criminals realized the Justice League had no interest in stopping them anymore.

Thankfully, Flash and the rest of the team seemed to be faring much better than he was. The Leaguers had apologized profusely, and Wally blushed and assured them that it wasn't their fault. They had even gotten their resident speedster an apology card which had a pouting puppy on the front and read: "Sorry for trying to kill you. Again." signed by each of them.

Batman was confident that Wally had placed the gift next to the "Sorry our alternate dimension selves tried to kill you" and "Sorry evil ancient snakes possessed us and almost killed you" cards.

But Wally accepting their silly card didn't do a thing to ease the guilt Bruce felt.

-/-/-

Wally had mostly forgotten what had happened a few days earlier. His friends were torn up about it, but after a couple hours of reassuring them that he was fine, their apologies turned into just quietly pampering him whenever he needed it. Fluffing his pillows, shoulder massages, baking him desserts... Wally was in Watchtower heaven.

Other than that, things were back to normal for the Justice League. There was one thing out of place though- Batman. He looked like he honestly hadn't taken a rest in a week. And, if anything, he was a smidgen colder to Flash than he usually was. Wally swore that Bats was actually going out of his way to avoid him.

He didn't understand. Was Bruce ashamed? Angry? Or just busy?

With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and stretched his fingers as he walked to his bathroom. No pain.

 _Thank god for super healing._

His superspeed had fixed up his body pretty well; the only visible reminders of the fight were the stitches on his thigh and...

He brought a hand up to his neck as he inspected the bruises in the mirror. They were still there, those purple blossoms which matched a certain caped crusader's hands. Not to mention the slight rasp his voice had taken as well.

Wally quickly turned away from his reflection. He didn't like to think about them. If he stared at them too long, he swore he could feel the ghost of Bruce's unyielding grasp on his throat. He shuddered at the memory.

He changed into a button up and khakis, getting ready for work. Whenever a coworker asked what happened, Wally would just blame it on the chip. Half of Central City had been affected by the transmission so no one really questioned him.

As the Flash, his cowl covered his entire neck. He didn't have to worry about explaining the marks to his fellow heroes. The founders understood what happened that day, but the others did not. Flash would prefer to keep it that way.

He picked three bagels off the counter and took off towards his lab.

-/-/-

Batman was checking criminal files on the Watchtower monitor when he heard the door open and a presence beside him. Without looking up, he snapped, "What is it?"

"J'onn, Supergirl, Green Lantern, Booster Gold and I are almost done dismantling the satellite," Superman said. "I can't believe it. If Flash had waited just a couple more hours before setting the bomb, the entire _world_ would have been under the chip's control."

It was true, of course. The radio tower had only been a temporary site for the transmissions, controlling only the east coast of North America.

"Speaking of Flash, he wants to know why he keeps getting put on crowd control for ground missions," The man of steel continued.

"He should know why."

Superman crossed his arms. "Obviously he doesn't. And honestly, neither do I."

Batman finally turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Four days ago he was tortured by his own teammates. The physical and mental trauma he sustained is enough to keep him benched for at least another week."

"Batman," Superman said, "Flash has accelerated healing. You saw his medical report from yesterday. He's perfectly fine. As for his mental state, J'onn did a check up and he's in his regular Wally condition. There's nothing to worry about." He paused. "Are you sure this is about him, or you?"

The hero clenched his fists. "Flash is going to continue crowd control until I decide he is fit to be back on the front line. Now get out before I assign you to washing the dishes," He snarled.

"Fine, fine," Superman said as he backed out of the room, hands raised in surrender. "And Bruce, don't prowl the streets of Gotham tonight. Get some sleep."

Turning back to the screen, Batman decided that the odds of him taking Superman's advice were incredibly slim.

-/-/-

He could feel the effects of exhaustion catching up to him. His movements were sluggish and his senses felt dulled. His reflexes weren't as sharp as they should have been.

He should have called for backup.

Killer Croc's tail swished like a whip, then he swung it at Batman before the hero could even process it. The impact sent the dark knight into the concrete wall with a loud _crack_. He watched Croc escape with his jewels, unable to muster the strength to stand up and follow him. With his last ounce of energy, Batman hit the emergency button on his League comm link.

-/-/-

"Is he okay?" Flash asked the Martian quietly.

Flash had heard the distress call from Batman's end. The lone sound of Bruce's raspy breathing scared him into action. He followed the signal into the sewer, where it was easy to put together what happened from the cracks in the wall and Batman's motionless body lying on the ground.

"Batman has a spinal fracture. More worrying, however, is the lack of sleep he's been getting. Human bodies cannot function properly on so little rest."

Flash peeked behind J'onn into the medbay. Thankfully, Bats was asleep now.

J'onn noticed where Flash's gaze was settled and stepped aside. "You can go in," He told the speedster.

Flash nodded in thanks and made his way to Bruce's bedside. He had suspected that Bats hadn't been getting enough sleep, but when did Batman ever have a normal sleep schedule?

The man rolled over in his sleep, and Flash noted the way his eyebrows creased a little bit. Barely a minute passed until Bruce was suddenly shifting incessantly in the bed.

 _A nightmare,_ Wally realized.

He moved to wake the Bat up, but paused when he noticed Bruce's fingers curled inward against the blanket. Flash swallowed hard. He knew what those fingers think they're wrapped around; he knew _exactly_ why Bruce wasn't sleeping anymore.

Flash quickly put his hands in Batman's gloved ones, shaking them lightly. "Bats," He said, "Wake up. C'mon, buddy. Wake up."

Batman woke up with a jolt, immediately sitting upright. His gaze searched the room wildly, as if he were unsure of where he was. The ragged breathing and wide, fearful eyes had no place accompanying Batman.

Wally was suddenly aware of the fact that his hands and Bruce's trembling ones were still intertwined. The man on the bed noticed too, and stared down at them.

-/-/-

It took a moment for Batman to organize his thoughts. Medbay, no lifeless body laying beside him, no chip in his head telling him what to do. But... who's damn hands was he holding?

He lifted his eyes and was met by Flash, staring at him with a type of concern Bruce would only expect from Alfred. He couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. It felt so good to wake up from that horrifying nightmare, just to have the speedster's full-of-life presence greet him. Sometimes he'd wake up from the dream in a blind panic, unsure if he had actually ripped the life out of Wally or not. It was completely disconcerting.

Flash cleared his throat, a blush tinging his cheeks.

Oh, right. Their hands.

He should pull away from Wally's firm grip. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed keen on that idea enough to let go first. So they sat like that for a few more seconds as Batman shoved the panic bubbling in his chest down and forced his hands to stop quivering. Wally West was alive. Hell, Wally West was sitting right in front of him.

 _I did not kill Wally West. I did not kill Wally West. I did not-_

"You can tell me anything. You know that, right Bats?" Flash asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I don't have anything to tell," Bruce huffed in response, retracting his hands back to himself. His palms suddenly felt cold.

Uncertain of what to do with his now-empty hands, Flash started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket. "Well... I... It's..." The boy fumbled for words. Finally he took a deep breath, straightened his back, and looked Bruce directly in the eye. "I know you have nightmares. About me. About what the chip made you do."

Batman held his gaze, refusing to answer.

"You didn't do it. It was the chip. You had no control over your actions. I know that. I knew that the entire time. If you think I blame you, or if you think I don't understand, you're wrong," Wally said, "It wasn't you who hurt me."

"Take off your cowl."

"What?"

"Take off your cowl."

Flash seemed to understand where Batman was going. "What happened to the house rule?" He joked worriedly, "About always keeping your mask on?"

"Take it off, Wally."

"You're breaking your own rules left and right, Bats," Flash said with a nervous chuckle. "Calling me by my real name? What's next, you start handing out the Javelin entry code to strangers?"

Batman just fixed a glare on the speedster until the boy sighed and slowly tugged his cowl down.

It was worse than Bruce thought. He hadn't seen the bruises, just the stitches and the fingers. He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and he tensed. He was _not_ in the nightmare. Flash was _not_ struggling to breathe underneath him. He was _not_ trying to crush his windpipe.

Still, a wave of nausea hit him as he remembered the feeling of Wally's soft throat in his rigid hold. He remembered Wally's frantic heartbeat being a lullaby to his chipped brain.

Yellowish-purple masses swathed Wally's skin, darker in certain places where Bruce remembers his fingers had dug into. This was the reminder of Bruce's failure. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch the marks, intently watching the boy's reaction. Wally closed his eyes as Bruce's fingers trailed over his neck, feather-light, scared of pressing too hard.

Flash was holding his breath. He was afraid. Afraid of Bruce.

Batman began to pull his hand away. He had crossed a line. Of course Flash was-

To his shock, a hand shot out and grabbed his retreating wrist. Wally guided his hand back and gently wrapped it around his own neck, precisely lining up Bruce's thumb to the mark it left behind. Then he took the other hand and did the same.

Batman's breath hitched, his hands now in the exact position they were that fateful day. Just like in the nightmares.

Except, Wally was staring at him with complete trust. He held his hands firmly over Bruce's, making sure the older man couldn't pull back. And Flash was not afraid. His heartbeat was a steady, rhythmic _thump_ against his palms.

"See?" Flash said softly. "It's okay. You can touch me right here, in the exact place you did last time, and it's okay. The chip is gone. It's over. I trust you."

He uncoiled Batman's hands, letting them drop back down.

"I'm not scared of you, Bruce," Wally said confidently. "How could I be scared of someone who only does their best to look out for me?"

Bruce felt his chest tighten. He didn't deserve this... this... _forgiveness_.

"It was my plan," He told the red-clad hero. "My plan to lure you to the cave. I knew what would make you come and what wouldn't." He turned away, ashamed to meet the boy's green eyes. "I knew how you felt about me. I've known for a while."

Batman sensed Wally stiffen beside him.

"You know, huh?" Flash asked. "You know about my big, fat, batty crush on you?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"Maybe I should..." "I want you to stay." Both heroes spoke at once. Surprised, they both snapped their gazes back to each other.

"You go first," Flash said, eyes wide.

"I want you to stay."

"With you? Here?"

"Yes."

"...I'm gonna need some snacks."


End file.
